Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Colorful Cojo's Neutral Colored Crib Goes on the Block

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Everyone who has ever laid eyes on flamboyant fashion critic Steven Cojocaru surely knows that the gender bending man-gurl loves nothing more than his hard working flat iron, over-stuffed make up case and closet full of shiny suits. So when Your Mama came across this preening peacock's home in the Hollywood Hills that was recently listed with an asking price of $3,395,000, we were laid out flat by its seriously strict adherence to a neutral colored day-core. Steven, hunnygurl, where's all the glitz, the glamour, the tinsel and the sequins? Where's the purple satin duvets, leopord print carpeting and gold laméterlit seat covers?

The fluttering and florid MisssCojocaru, who bears a striking resemblance to Chaz Bono and whose stock in professional trade seems to be screeching and squealing through celebrity interviews like he's doing gurl talk at the nail salon, was just a queer kid in Canada before he hightailed it to Hollywood to pursue a life of fashion and glamour. He ended up as the West Coast fashion editor for People Magazine before moving on to the big time at the Today Show where for five long years he flirted shamelessly with Matt Lauer and worked his campy stuff as a style correspondent.

The toothy tornado of red carpet sartorialism was let go from the Today Show in 2005 just weeks after he underwent kidney transplant surgery. Miss Cojo, in case y'all did not know, has had two kidney transplants, one he got from his bff and another he got from his mommy dearest. That's why She-ra went from being slim like a stalk of malnourished celery to puffed up like sweet potato. Anyhoo, like a gleaming and glossy Phoenix with giant veneers and ladee hair, Steven Cojocaru rose from the ashes of two transplants and the wicked indignity of the Today Show and went on to spread his particular and peculiar brand of fashion advice and criticism on celebrity love-festing programs such as Entertainment Tonight, E! and Access Hollywood. Along the way he wrote a couple of books (Red Carpet Diaries: Confessions of a Glamour Boy and Glamour, Interrupted), started up his own high-sterical and snarky blog–he geniuslycomparedReal Housewives of New York City's Kelly Bensimon to a charred skirt steak–and, of course, kept that industrial strength flat iron working overtime.

Your Mama actually wrote about Miss Cojocaru's crib above the Sunset Strip back in August of 2007, This was actually several months after he purchased the property for, according to property records, $3,800,000. Of course, until Little Stevie gives us a ringy-dingy to fill us in on the deets we don't know why he'd want to sell this house–or lease it out for $20,000 per month–after only about 2.5 years of owning the home. It's even more puzzling given that he bought at the tippy top of what was then a scorching real estate market that has since cooled considerably and, according to our bejewled abacus, he's lined up to lose at least $405,000 not counting the fat real estate fees that will need to be paid.

Whatever the reasons, listing information calls the "mid-century modern" a "former celebrity retreat" and the property was indeed owned by actor Brock Peters (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Batman, The Pirates of Dark Water, and To Kill a Mockingbird) until his death in August of 2005. The house was then purchased by an investor who worked it over and flipped it to Miss Cojocaru. The 3,850 square foot butterfly-roofed house, which was built in 1955 according to listing information, sits down a gated driveway on a perfectly private .28 acre flag lot and includes 3 bedrooms and 3.5 dee-luxepoopers.

The open plan and tasteful if boringly beige interior spaces include a living room with a monolithic stacked stone fireplace, a pitched and beamed wood ceiling, hardwood floors, a tan area rug, and one of the biggest damn sectional sofas Your Mama has ever seen. A wall of glass sliders wraps around the living room, runs past the dining area with its cardboard box shaped chandelier and gigantic Parson's style table and around to the well-equipped kitchen which has chestnut colored flat panel cabinetry, sand colored counter tops, ecru colored tile back splash and a full complement of high grade stainless steel appliances including a dee-lishus blue knobbed, six burner Thermador range.

Miss Cojocaru's nest also features, according to listing information, an office and a sizable screening room with wall to wall deep shag carpeting–in pale beige, natch–a lot of low and clean lined milk chocolate colored leather sofas and chairs and, we are sorry to say, one of those stoopid old-fashioned popcorn makers shoved up in the corner that makes the whole thing look utterly cheap and ridiculous. We're sorry Cojo dear, Your Mama lurvs you like a kitten that faux-antique popcorn making piece of crap makes us want to puke from the insulting decorative cliché of putting a popcorn maker in a screening room. Pleeze.

Anyhoo, each of the three bedrooms has a private pooper and the large master bedroom also has a very moe-derne and organic stainless steel fireplace that hangs from the beamed wood ceiling, a sky light or two, more light beige shag wall to wall carpeting, sliding glass doors that open to a gravel patio and wall of privacy creating bamboo. The master pooper, a long linear affair, has double sinks, a small wall mounted boob-toob, dark stained built in cabinetry and a free-standing egg-shaped soaking tub that's, stylistically, having a conversation with the fireplace in the bedroom area.

The small but adequately sized back yard is, as fer as Your Mama is concerned, lovely except for the traffic noise that probably wafts up from curvy swervy Sunset Plaza Drive below. A terrace just off the living room, furnished with a contemporary wicker dining room table, chairs and chaise lounges, leads to a gravel pad surrounded on two sides by a big built in bench. A raised spa with midnight blue tile spills down into the infinity edged swimming pool. The clever siting gives the illusion that Miss Cojocaru's house is way up in the hills with nary a neighbor to be seen.

Mama, did the faux antique popcorn machine in the media room completely overwhelm your occular nerves? You mentioned nothing of the white orchid gracing the coffee table in the living room. This leads me to believe that the property is staged, since no self-respecting queen would EVER have an orchid in the house. Unless, of course, they were a collector of rare and unusual specimens, of which that is not, and even then they would remain in their rightful place in the attached Tanglewood conservatory. Honestly, read the Your Mamma's Guide to Decor Do's and Dont's before the photographs are published people!

While I never watch the shows that Steven is on, I find myself a fan of his nonetheless. I've always been strangely attracted to him, his exuberant self-invention, and then admired his strength in the face of health adversity.

Most of us who read Mama's column know the difference between public palimpset and private persona... why is it so hard to imagine a colorful character wanting a serene refuge?

Ralph Lauren used to say, "after looking at color all day, I don't want to see it when I get home".

Annie - A "flag lot" is one that's narrow at the street (usually just wide enough for the driveway) then is large at the back. One typically can't see a house on a flag lot, unless it's on higher ground, since it often sits behind other houses that line the street. Envision a small handheld flag on a stick. The stick would be the driveway that touches the street and the flag would be where the house actually sits.

Very nice! I like the overall rustic feel that this house gives out. It somehow projects that calming aura with such an elegant resort style interior design. The dark shade wooden flooring and ceiling are softened by the clean white walls which makes the entire surroundings look so subtle and calm. There is also not many furniture around for storage which further reduces clutters and make the area look spacious and neat. Sometimes more does not necessarily mean nicer. Simplicity at its best.